Rascals
Rascals have invaded our Circle
Every place where men should gather
Conmen with smelly armpits, armed with
A verse, totems and
A mad man for experiment
This exhibition surely is not for kings
This is the assembly of foolish men
He is ready to slaughter his obedient listeners
Meanwhile
He is no Abraham neither are they Isaac, but
They are ever ready to be sacrificed
He excites the circular crowd
He excites the mad man stationed at the centre
Mad man fondles his scrotum and flicks away
A homeless harmless fly
It misses the prophet by half an inch
“Kwasia1…Gyiiiimiii2, me di yesu mogya kan we nim3” He bombs the mad man
They jeer, loud enough to catch their saviour’s attention
“Preach on!” a hooligan hits the punch line
“Swag on prophet!” another thunders
“The prophet bulldozer!” a third moron adds
Business comes to an end as usual at Circle
It’s offering time — the prophet remembers to collect
Whereas these listeners have forgotten -
They need redemption by the real saviour.
